


Spin Me Up

by manamune



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drinking, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manamune/pseuds/manamune
Summary: Keith is a happy drunk. And a sad drunk. And a clingy drunk.It's a good thing Lance is there to take care of him.





	

“And—and then the guy said, ‘I would tell you a chemistry joke, but all of the good ones argon!’”

Lance rolled his eyes and hoisted Keith’s arm further over his shoulders, steadying him with an arm around his waist. The hallways of their castle ship suddenly felt much longer than usual as he dragged Keith down them.

“That’s nice, Keith,” Lance said absently. Keith went into another fit of laughter, squirming underneath Lance’s arm. If he let go, he knew Keith would fall over and land face-first onto the floor. And if Keith woke up with any bruises on his pretty face tomorrow, the others would kill him.

“Hey—” Keith’s feet dragged against the floor. “Hey, Lance,” he whispered, voice suddenly dipping low.

“Yes?” Lance winced, mentally preparing himself for another round of bad jokes.

“What do you do to a dead chemist?”

“You barium,” Lance answered.

Keith ripped himself out of Lance’s arms, giggling, and predictably fell bottom-first onto the metal flooring. Lance’s reply was apparently hilarious to him and only made him laugh harder.

In an odd way, despite Keith being so drunk he couldn’t even stand, he still looked good. It was aggravating, considering when Lance got drunk, he looked five seconds away from dipping into Hell. But Keith always seemed to look pretty, face flushed and hair matted to his cheeks. Not to mention the wide, toothy grin that was on his face, so rare that Lance could count all the times he’d seen it before with his fingers.

“How did you know?!” Keith asked through his laughter. God, were those actual tears welling up in Keith’s eyes? The jokes weren’t even that funny!

“Dumb guess,” Lance lied and kneeled down in front of Keith. He held out his hand and Keith took it instantly, rubbing his cheek against it like a cat. Alright then. “Come on, we’re close to your room.”

“H2O is the formula for water, so what is—”

“H2O cubed,” Lance sighed. He caught Keith’s hand when he was distracted in pure shock from Lance’s answer and brought him back to his feet.

“You’re a genius,” Keith whispered, eyes so wide that Lance felt Keith was looking right into his soul.

“And you are drunk. Very, very drunk,” Lance said.

He had to get Keith onto a soft surface—preferably a nice, warm bed—where he couldn’t hurt himself by rolling around. And then Lance would have to grab some medicine and a glass of water for him for tomorrow morning; he’d feel guilty of he didn’t, and also, Keith would kill him if he found out Lance just abandoned him in his room without and further help.

Though, Lance kind of thought he was already being a pretty good friend by walking him across the ship in the first place.

“‘M not drunk, I…” Keith’s face twisted in thought, as if considering what excuse he should use. “I’m… drunk.”

“Yup,” Lance sighed. Keith’s door came into view and Lance praised every god he knew of.

“Why am I drunk?”

“Space alcohol. Strong stuff, apparently. Allura said it should process through your system by tomorrow morning.”

Keith whined, stumbling over his feet, and he crashed onto the floor again before Lance could stop him. “I—I don’t want to be drunk,” Keith mumbled, all of the happiness in his face that had been there moments before now having dissipated.

Lance crouched down beside him. “Keith, your room is right there.” He gently guided Keith’s line of sight towards his door. “See?”

“I don’t want to be drunk,” Keith repeated. “I don’t want to be drunk, I don’t want to be drunk, I—”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. The universe was clearly playing tricks and enacting karma on him right now.

“Right, so if you get to your bed, you’ll be able to sleep. And then wake up. And not be drunk.” Keith curled up, turning away from Lance, ready to sleep on the hard floor. “Don’t make me carry you.”

“You aren’t strong enough t’carry me,” Keith mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at Lance, like a kid making sure their insult had the intended effect. Lance stared at him, dumbfounded. For someone who was normally so grumpy, the drunk version of Keith was quite childish.

“What? Of course I am,” Lance huffed. He took a deep breath—do not get riled up by drunk Keith, he reminded himself.

Keith pursed his lips and squinted at him, pupils dilated. “Make me,” he said. “I mean—do it. Wrong phrase. Urgh…” He clutched his stomach.

“Okay, okay. Jeez…”

Keith reached out for him, arms spread wide, similar to the motions for a hug. Lance scooped him up—Keith was heavier than Lance thought he would be, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, especially when Keith immediately went lip, wrapping himself around Lance like a koala.

“You’re clingy,” Lance muttered, not so much annoyed as fascinated. Keith half-groaned, half-hummed.

“You’re warm,” Keith whispered back, closing his eyes.

It was only fifteen steps to Keith’s room, but by the time they arrived, Keith was asleep, mumbling about calcium, and slurring the ends of a bad joke.

-

Lance set down a glass of water beside Keith’s bed and slipped a package of medicine that he’d stolen from Keith’s bathroom beside it. His own body was beginning to feel exhausted now, from tucking Keith in and then making sure that he would have everything he needed for the next morning.

“Lance…” Keith mumbled, eyes flickering open and closed. They were such a brilliant purple that Lance often felt winded looking into them. “Laaaance…”

“I’m right here,” Lance shushed him, trying to sound exasperated. Really, he was rather fond of Keith calling his name like that.

“My head hurts…” Keith said, fisting the sheets and bringing them further over his shaking body.

“I know. You drank too much.” Lance patted the top of his head. His hair was a little greasy, but fluffy, and a rush of affection passed through Lance when Keith preened underneath his touch.

Keith sniffled, holding onto Lance’s hand and dragging it down his face until it settled on his cheek. Blush flooded over Lance’s face, and he was immensely grateful that Keith was too exhausted to see it.

Keith’s skin was so soft it should be illegal. His grip was like iron over Lance’s hand, stopping him from pulling back.

“Why didn’t you like my jokes?” Keith asked, peering up at him. He could barely keep his eyes open for a second before they shut automatically under the weight of his sleepiness.

“Because they’re _bad_ ,” Lance insisted, attempting to release himself from Keith. Keith tightened his grip, pouting.

“I like your jokes,” Keith said accusatorily. “You have t’like mine, too. That’s how it works.”

“That’s how what works?” Lance laughed. Keith’s fingers shifted over his, and he sighed.

“When you like someone.”

Oh.

Lance’s face was so hot that he was sure it could be used to start a fire. “You can’t just say that, Keith—even if you’re drunk—” It was like talking to a brick wall. In one ear and right out the other.

“I _like_ you,” Keith said, and then roughly tugged Lance forward. He slipped and fell half-onto the bed beside him, knees hitting the wood of the bed frame. “Why didn’t my jokes w—work?” he stuttered, clearly battling between his body’s fatigue and his own passion to stay awake.

“Uh,” Lance said, looking down at him. Keith’s eyes were back to being shut, and if he wasn’t holding onto Lance’s hand still, Lance might have thought he had fallen asleep. “I don’t—”

“Do y’like me too?” Keith asked, releasing him.

Lance closed his eyes as well, taking a deep breath. That was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one. But he couldn’t lie, and it wasn’t like Keith would remember in the morning—it would be nice to get it off his chest, too—and _maybe_ Keith was telling the truth—

“Yeah,” Lance said.

Keith smiled, curling his arms around himself and burying his cheek to his pillow. “Knew it,” he said, and then immediately knocked out.

Lance sat there over Keith until he was sure that he was really out of it, before dragging himself back to his own room and falling asleep, too lazy to take his clothes off.

-

Keith opened the door to Lance’s room at noon, looking somehow worse than he had when he was shit-faced drunk. His hair was wild, pointing out in every direction, and the bags underneath his eyes were even deeper than normal.

“Lance,” Keith croaked, voice hoarse.

Lance jumped up, pulling his sheets over himself and folding down the page he was on in the book he was reading. “Yes?” he squeaked.

Keith stomped over to him, stopping right in front of Lance’s bed. And then, after taking off his slippers (red, cat-shaped, very cute), he climbed onto the bed beside him.

He blinked a few times and squinted. “You like me,” he said.

Lance’s heart picked up in pace, a thousand and one thoughts running through his brain at once. _Keith had been joking with me_ or _Keith thought I was someone else_ were the two ones at the forefront.

“Yes?” Lance said. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it doesn’t have to mean anything, I was just helping you out, ‘cus, uh, we’re friends, I hope you’re feeling better, you look great, totally not hungover—”

“You’re rambling,” Keith said. He fisted Lance’s hair and then pulled him forward, kissing him. Keith tasted like dry space alcohol and mint, and for some reason, the fact that Keith had bothered to brush his teeth before coming here and kissing him made his heart swell with affection. Because it meant that Keith cared.

“Oh,” Lance said, breathless, when they parted. “We just—we just kissed.”

“I like you too,” Keith said. He took the book out of Lance’s hands and threw it across the bed. Now that his hands were free, Keith guided them to his waist. “I am really hungover,” he announced.

“But you know what you’re doing?” Lance asked, fingers inching over the curve of Keith’s sides.

“Being with you takes the edge off,” Keith mumbled, already leaning forward.

Lance felt like _he_ was the drunk one now—if he could get drunk off of the press of Keith’s lips and his own sheer happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> :D let me know what you think by commenting or msging me! <3
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](http://koizumi.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/tsukaleoluvr69)!


End file.
